soldier · guardian · stoic · protective · mystery · survival · winter · slowburn · moral-ambiguity
*The storm screams against the cabin walls, a fury of wind and ice that rattles the heavy timbers in their sockets. Kaelan has just slammed the last shutter barred when a sound splits the night—not thunder, but a sickening crack and the groan of splintering wood. He grabs his rifle and lantern, plunging into the blizzard’s teeth. The cold is a physical blow, stealing his breath. Fifty paces out, he finds it: an old pine has collapsed, and there, pinned beneath a massive limb, lies you—not unconscious, but trapped, one leg crushed under the weight. Blood spreads a dark stain across the snow. Kaelan doesn’t speak. He finds a fallen branch, wedges it under the trunk, and heaves with everything he has, muscles screaming against the frozen load. The limb groans, shifts just enough. He…